


Consulting with an Author

by SilverCowGirl



Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith, Strike (TV 2017)
Genre: Angst, Boat, Developing Relationship, Digestives, F/M, Fishing, Fluff, Food, Horseback Riding, Horses, Research, Riding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 00:55:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29163000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverCowGirl/pseuds/SilverCowGirl
Summary: A famous author approaches the detective duo for advice about a book series.
Relationships: Robin Ellacott & Cormoran Strike, Robin Ellacott/Cormoran Strike
Comments: 21
Kudos: 42





	1. A New Client

**Author's Note:**

> This is purely fictional writing and anyone mentioned who might be real is used in the purely fictional sense. (Wink!)

Chapter 1

Robin and Cormoran were finally having a day in the office after two weeks of incessant surveillance made cumbersome primarily because Hutchinson had been struggling with his health. He’d gone straightaway for some medical advice so was feeling much better and planning to return to the rota on Monday. They spent a quiet day catching up on necessary charting, as well as answering a variety of questions posed to them by their very capable office manager, Pat. The both of them were never micromanagers, but there were several topics building up that they both needed to discuss and decide upon. They had a new client who had requested a late appointment, so planned to go to the Tottenham afterwards.

Just before 5 o’clock, Pat knocked quietly on their shared office door and stuck her head in. She cleared her throat and raised her eyebrows, waggling them meaningfully, “Someone to see you, says there’s an appointment, but it’s not on the schedule. You know anything about it? Should I offer tea, or just be on home?” 

“We’ll take care of it, Pat,” Cormoran spoke up, giving her a rather direct look, “And thanks.” 

“Welcome,” she grinned at him. Robin gave him a warm smile, too. 

Before Robin could speak, Strike rose and followed Pat into the waiting area. Robin shifted her chair to sit beside Cormoran and left the empty chair across the partner desk from them. In just a moment Strike ushered the new client into their shared space. Walking behind the petite red-haired woman, he had his eyebrows lifted. If he’d had time to process, he would have noted a rather delighted look on his partner’s face. “Jo here says she talked to you about coming in this evening.”

The woman carried herself with the unmistakable air of confidence. Before sitting she held out her hand to Robin, “Robin, Jo Murray here, spoke on the phone, pleased to meet you. I’ve heard many good things about you.”

Robin gave her a huge smile, grasped the woman’s hand immediately, “Thank you! Robin Ellacott. And this is my partner, Cormoran Strike,” she introduced Strike as the woman turned to hold out her hand to him. He was obviously slow on the uptake, but reached out his hand to grasp the outreached hand, beginning to wonder if Robin was winding him up.

“How can we help you, erm…”

“Jo,” she said, “I’m known to most by Jo and I’ve reason to prefer a higher than usual degree of confidentiality,” as she settled into a chair and pulled a small blue notebook and pen from her tote bag. She shrugged off her quilted jacket, continuing, “I’ve an unusual request. I’m an author and I’m seeking your help with the plot of a series of books I’m writing. The main characters are a pair of investigators, such as yourselves, so my mission is actually to pick your brains, so to speak.” 

While Robin looked immediately intrigued, Cormoran had begun to slowly shake his head imperceptibly. “I really don’t think…”

“Please hear me out. I’m a fairly successful writer, so I’m able to pay you and it will take a minimum amount of your time.” She gave the impression of knowing exactly what she was after, adding, “I’d like the opportunity to interview you each once, separately, which may involve you for a few hours. Then I’d like a final meeting with you together. That’s all. And for that I’ll pay you quite well.”

Strike, continuing to think the woman, and maybe Robin, too, were merely winding him up, shook his head in a negative fashion. “I can’t think how that would be helpful to you and we’re more in the business of solving crimes and mysteries.” 

“I, too, am in the business of crimes and mysteries. I have one to solve in my book series and I desperately need the help of you and your partner.” 

Robin finally spoke, “Would you … be asking about particular cases? Because we really aren’t at all keen to be featured in a book. Putting a lid on media attention is of utmost importance to us, as you may well understand.” 

Jo gave Robin a slight smile, “I totally understand. No, I would not ask questions about any specific case you’ve cracked. I’m interested more in the sinew and bones of the partnership, if you will. And media would not be drawn to your agency as a result, with personal details, as such, never identified.” She hesitated, “In the interest of full disclosure, I’d like to have at least a verbal agreement that you will answer _all_ my questions to the best of your ability.” 

“Perhaps we could have a list of those questions,” Robin suddenly became aware that Strike was studying her like she was a bug under glass. She hastened to ask this so as to reassure him she was solidly in step with him.

“Oh, but where is the fun of that for the interviewer?” Jo appeared to be genuinely delighted with the thought. “I generally am the interviewee,” she confided, “and of course I am able to have the questions handed me in advance. But what I’m paying you both for are your initial, unvarnished responses to my queries. I promise it won’t hurt,” she cajoled. 

For once Robin and Cormoran were not thinking in concert when they gazed at each other. For some reason undecipherable to him, Robin seemed almost enthusiastic to jump into the project. He had great difficulty with the idea of dimming the light dancing in her eyes. This ‘talking thing’ was working out well for them in the last several months, but he didn’t know if he wanted to include someone else in the mix, some unknown person who may be up to some nuttery.

Robin was thinking it would be great fun to contribute to what she thought of as the research of a well-known British author, but realized Cormoran didn’t give any indication he realized who, in fact, they were dealing with. She made one more attempt to settle his qualms, “Would **you** be willing to sign a letter of confidentiality?”

“But of course,” Jo beamed, reaching again into her bag, “I’ve one right here.”

So, after agreements were discussed, papers were signed, and it was determined the claimant could have full access to them the following Thursday through Saturday for a quite large sum of money, the new client left the office with more handshakes all around. As he closed the door behind her Strike gave Robin a meaningful look. “What?” she asked.

“Just asking m’self how I let myself into this?” 

“D’ you know who she is?”

“A writer who is full of herself?” he replied with some asperity. 

Robin couldn’t contain her mirth, “None other than J.K. Rowling of Harry Potter fame!” 

He dropped his head, hand on one hip, and blew out a breath, “And I’m asking m’self, how could I have not known that?” He gave her a sheepish grin, crinkles around his eyes, peering out from beneath bushy brows. 

“It’ll be great fun!” Robin was almost dancing with excitement.


	2. Robin's Interview

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A famous author interview's Robin.

Chapter 2 –

Information arrived by courier on Tuesday concerning the details. The brown envelope was marked “Private” and delivered to the partners by Pat. She was cautiously curious about their latest client and suspected this might have something to do with the person who’s appointment had been after hours. Robin took the envelope with a kind smile, saying, “Please close the door behind you, Pat.” 

Cormoran dropped his pen, stretching back in his springy office chair, hands on the arms of his chair as she opened the envelope. He waited with some inquisitiveness. 

“It says here a car will call for me early Thursday morning, to take me to a posh stable. Dress is for riding and followed by a casual luncheon. Robin was thrilled, “It sounds like great fun! Can you imagine? We’ve got the opportunity many could only dream of and we can’t even tell Ilsa and Nick,” she ended a little forlornly. 

“Bollocks!” expelled Strike. “I hope she doesn’t have the idea I’ll ride a horse!” 

Robin returned to the itinerary, “It says someone will call for you at 0500 sharp on Friday. Dress for a fishing expedition and bring your own rod and reel if you’ve one,” she grinned at her partner. “It says ample digestives will be provided, along with a variety of your favorite beverages.” 

“Mmhhh,” he hummed, “Can’t be all bad then, can it?”

~~

Early on Thursday morning, Robin was dressed in tan jodhpurs with a peacock blue jacket covering a white blouse. She’d managed to cabbage some riding boots from Vanessa’s friend, who opportunely wore just her size. She’d filled her crossbody bag with her phone, some lip gloss, a credit card, and a pair of buttery soft riding gloves. She’d had a quick mug of tea and finished it just as she heard a car pull quietly to the curb outside her flat. She quickly texted Strike, “I’m off. Wish me luck.”

The ride to the venue took about 30 minutes, during which Robin had trouble sitting still, she was so excited. As they wound up a curving drive, the white fences lined the fields. They arrived at a long stable and the driver stopped, then hurried to open the door for Robin. She alighted to the sound of a black Labrador retriever making a half-hearted bark, before bowing his head with wagging tail for a friendly greeting. Within moments, Jo emerged from the nearest wide doorway to greet her.

“Welcome! We’ve a fine morning for a ride. I think I’ve just the mount for you, but come have a look.” 

Robin entered the large, well-kept stable and was transported to the joy of her youth. The smell of horses, the soft nickers, the murmurs of stable hands as they went about their chores brought sudden tears to her eyes with a visceral reaction. She didn’t know how much she’d missed this until it was returned to her. Jo lead her down the barn aisle to where a bay mare nickered softly. “Miss Callie! Meet Robin, please,” her hostess made the intro as the mare nodded her head in the affirmative. “Oh look! I think the pair of you are going to hit it off from the start.” 

Robin lifted her right arm and gave the mare a chance to sniff the back of her hand before slowly moving to run it over the horse’s jaw and under to give her a gentle scratch. “I think we’ll do perfectly,” she grinned at Jo and Callie. 

“Let’s get tacked up and we’ll be off, then.”

Before long the pair were easily walking their mounts along a trail. The morning was cool, but the sun was quickly burning off the fog and the birds were chirping, as they busily readied nests and went about their day. Robin felt again the sense of confidence riding gave. The camaraderie with the mare easily extended to her hostess, who had immediately shown the gift of making her guest comfortable. They walked their horses for a couple of miles before moving to a trot, then a canter. By the time they’d easily covered several miles, Robin’s face was flushed with happiness. Her riding training and skills came back to her easily and she reveled in the freedom she felt as they rode. About the time she was realizing the exercise her muscles were experiencing, Jo slowed to a stop at a small roadside table. Conveniently, there was a place for the horses to drink and a hitching post where they could be tied. 

As they dismounted and stretched, Jo asked, “Alright if I ask a few questions now?”

“Sure,” Robin was a little surprised, not entirely sure of how this interview process would go, but trusting in the other woman to lead the way.

“Well, as I told you and Cormoran at our initial meeting, I’m not interested in asking questions about specific cases, but rather about how you and your partner operate in your day to day interactions with each other.”

Robin was a little taken aback, but said nothing, so Jo continued, “For instance, I’m wondering what is it that draws you and Cormoran together as partners?”

“Well,” Robin thought aloud, “I suppose it’s a bit of a few things. We share a curiosity about investigation. I’ve wanted a career like this since I was a wee thing, but for a long time I was reluctant to say it. M’ brothers would take the piss out of me at the drop of a hat and I didn’t want them ruining it for me. And of course, Cormoran was SIB, so he has a ton more experience than me.” She thought for a few moments, then continued, “We’ve built the agency together so we’ve an investment of our time, our work, and we share the same end goals… to have things run smoothly, have a bank account in the black, that sort of thing.” 

Seemingly satisfied with the breadth of the answer, Jo then asked, “Do you always get along? Ever have disagreements?”

Robin snorted at this, “Well, actually, Strike sacked me once. My first reaction was that it knocked the breath out of me, I was so shocked he’d do that. Then I was angry, so angry, b’cause he called it ‘gross misconduct’ and I **knew** I’d done the right thing, the only thing I could do with good conscience. It was back when I was marrying and I felt devastated for a few weeks.” Robin smiled to herself, looking off into a past her interviewer couldn’t see. “Then he literally crashed my wedding and asked me to come back.” With a wistful look, Robin appeared to shake herself out of the past, looked at Jo and stated, “So I did.” 

“So you patched it up?”

“Yeah, we’ve disagreed a few times, but we’ve been able to continue working together without it affecting our work lives too much. Oh, there’s been distance at times, but I do believe we’ve gotten better over the years. It’s been 5 years, you know, and now we’re doing this ‘talking thing.’

Robin stopped, and didn’t go on until prompted, “Talking thing?”

“Yeah, we had a rough year with Strike’s Aunt Joan down in Cornwall dying from cancer. He was under incredible pressure and I was knackered most of the time with trying to cover for both of us. It’s a long story, but we had a long talk and Cormoran finally told me he was under pressure about a number of things and we agreed we’d talk things out as best mates do, before he had a heart attack, trying to keep things bottled up so much.”

“So, you’re divorced?” Was that due to the demands of the agency?”

“Well, I must admit that’s a yes and no answer. My ex was cheating on me off and on for years, so when I finally realized it was continuing after our marriage I left him. But we were unhappy with each other for a long time before that. Once I was hired at the agency, I realized more and more that I wasn’t that vapid wife who lived to serve my spouse, work to afford the ‘right’ house with a good school district, and have children. He wasn’t satisfied with a wife who worked odd hours and he often joked about my work, minimizing it’s importance, calling what we do being a ‘peepin’ Tom’. I realized I _wanted_ to put my work above my marriage to him.”

“So where do you see yourself when you’re, let’s say… 50 years old?”

Robin huffed out a big breath and pursed her lips, “Oh, wow! I don’t know.” She studied the question for a few moments. “I s’pose I’d like to have the agency be doing better than ever. We’d obviously have to be in a new location by then, since our current lease may not be renewed. I’d want to remain active in investigations, not just the day to day management.”

When she didn’t give the impression of giving any more answer, Jo prodded gently, “What of your personal life? I take it you’re not dating right now, but what do you see for your personal life?”

Robin once again gazed off ruefully, as though looking into a crystal ball her interviewer couldn’t see. “I suppose that depends. I do sometimes think that having such a passion for my career has left me coming up short on romance and I miss physical contact, sex, love…” her words trailed off. “It’s difficult, you know, to find someone who understands our work. Cormoran and I have both had relationships end, at least in part, due to the demands of our work.” Again she remained thoughtful for a few more moments before finally admitting, “I have to hope that by that age I’d have my career, love, and friends who mean a lot to me. It’s not too much to want it all, is it?”

“Of course not,” affirmed the older woman. “I wonder…is it possible for you to have a romantic relationship with your business partner?”

“Oh! Well! I don’t know…you’d have to ask him!” Robin suddenly felt contrite, as though she’d given away a valuable piece of information. 

“Do you see any barriers to working with a romantic partner?”

“No, of course not! We’re both very professional…I mean if both persons are able to be very professional, I can’t see why it wouldn’t work. It wouldn’t do to impose on the other staff, but otherwise, I can’t see where it would be a problem.” Robin was making a conscious effort to switch to talking in general terms, desperately trying to avoid talking about Cormoran. 

“What about arguments? What would happen if there was an irreconcilable difference?”

“Well, arguments don’t have to involve throwing things and drawing blood, do they? They can be worked out through discussion, compromise, if the partnership is important enough. I, for one, would like to think that I’d work very hard to make it work. Commitment. That’s what it would take. And in the event everything we tried would not make it work, I’ve learned life goes on. There’d be other ways to do what I love for a career, I’m sure.” She was thinking about Wardle offering her a job. Robin didn’t seem aware that Jo was waiting for her to say more. “I think if two mature people really love each other there’s a way to work through any problems that arise. I’m just that much of a romantic at heart.”

Jo smiled at Robin then, saying, “Right. You ready to ride a little more now?”

Relieved, Robin nodded, “Absolutely!” As they moved towards their horses, she wondered what she had said, what she had revealed, and hoped it wasn’t too much. 


	3. Cormoran's Interview

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jo interview's Cormoran.

Chapter 3

Robin had texted Strike when she’d arrived at her flat after her interview with Jo. He’d expected her to return to Denmark Street to have a proper decompress, but she’d seemed strangely noncommittal. She’d eventually called to say she was knackered after her ride, using muscles she’d not used in years, so she’d taken the rest of the day off. Strike felt some trepidation at this, but decided not to make too much of it without further clues. 

He rose Friday morning at 4:30 a.m. to grab a quick shower and attired himself in a pair of kaki sport slacks that came complete with zips at the knees so that he could use them as shorts if it got too hot on his trip today. He’d dug out an old ‘I Love Cornwall’ t-shirt Lucy’s boys had bought him for a birthday present and he wore old trainers he hadn’t had occasion to use for quite some time. He pulled on a hooded sweatshirt, since the morning was cool. Checking his pockets for his cigarettes and lighter and grabbing his insulated cup of creosote-colored tea, he descended the steps to wait for his ride. It wasn’t long before a sleek Hum-vee pulled up in front of the Denmark Street building and a window lowered silently, “Mr. Strike?” the driver asked. 

“That’d be me,” Cormoran replied as he grasped the door handle and gave a pull. He entered the vehicle with his usual practiced motion, holding onto the upper part of the door frame, and settled into the passenger seat, then buckled his seatbelt. 

“Right. It’ll be about an hour drive to our destination. Please make yourself comfortable.” As the driver pulled smoothly out of the parking spot, Strike got a sense of relief at the man’s obvious skill at driving. The two men continued with some idle chitchat throughout the trip. In what seemed short order, they were arriving at a private marina, where Strike alighted from the car. Walking down the pier, he spied their client, Jo.

“Welcome, Mr. Strike,” she called. “Nice day for a boat ride!”

“That it is,” he replied, adding, “Please, call me Cormoran. Or Corm for short.”

“Will do,” she replied. 

Fortunately there was a small gangway to make boarding the boat easier. Strike was surprised to find there was only the two of them aboard, with a small inside seating area, galley, and head. Above them, the captain’s cabin was enclosed. Within minutes, a young man came nimbly sliding down a ladder and introduced himself as the first mate, “Sean,” as he held out his hand and Strike shook it. The boy quickly set to work, threading large hooks in several bait fish, readying them in quick succession, then checking several large rods and reels, as well as a outrigger system. 

Strike was rapidly becoming more enthusiastic about the trip, especially as the seas seemed calm and smooth. The piece de resistance quickly followed when Jo casually mentioned, “Fresh pastries inside, kettle is boiled for tea, and you’re welcome to investigate the rest of the food in the fridge. I think there’s a variety of sandwiches, plenty of packs of crisps, and your choice of soda, water, or beer. Probably some KitKat bars or something if you’ve a sweet tooth later.” 

He gave Jo one of his crinkle-eyed grins, “A woman after m’own heart.”

Before long, the captain was skillfully starting the motors and backing the boat carefully out of its berth, then moving slowly through the ‘No Wake Zone’ before revving the engines more. The sun was just coming up, casting a pink glow on the sparkling water, and the colorful rods and reels were enhanced by the morning light. The smell of saltwater was so familiar to Strike that his stomach seemed to flip at being on the boat, unavoidably thinking of his Aunt Joan and her final resting place. Jo was quiet as they made their way to their first fishing spot, only occasionally calling his attention to dolphins in the distance or other boats as they passed. They both sat securely, side-by-side, in the built-in chairs made for reeling in large fish, just enjoying the beauty and freedom of the morning. 

Once the boat arrived at the destination, there was a flurry as Sean helped them get their lines in the water. Almost immediately Strike’s line began to give a slight jerking motion. “Have y’got one?”

“I think.”

“Let it get a good bite and then lift up, smooth and quick, but not too quick to pull the bait out of its mouth.” Strike grinned at the advice, feeling at home on the water, and flawlessly hooked the first fish. Although he had been going to the gym and swimming a couple times a week, he quickly realized this fish weighed a good bit and he was off-balanced by his leg and the movement of the boat. He gratefully sank into one of the chairs as Sean helped him fix the rod into the holder to steady it as he reeled. Before long, he brought in a very nice tuna. The day was off to a great start.

For the first two hours, Strike and Jo kept Sean busy, baiting hooks, gaffing fish, and generally cheering them on. As the hits on their lines began to slow, the captain called down for lines to be pulled in so they could move to another spot. Once everything was stowed away, Jo and Strike retired to the cabin to raid the galley. Strike was ready for the ciabatta sandwich with chicken salad made with plenty of onion. He was pleased to see Doom Bar on offer and opened a bag of crisps as Jo made her selections. As they settled across from each other at the small table, his hostess asked, “Alright if I ask a few questions?”

“Shoot,” Strike answered easily as he was feeling quite pleased with his success of the morning. 

“As you already know, I’m doing this as research for my book series, so just tell me some things about your agency.” Strike briefly wondered what reply Robin gave to this question, but he quickly lost any reservations and began.

“Well, as you may already know, we’ve been in business about 5 years. Robin came to me as a temporary, but helped to solve our first big case and stayed on permanently. If not for her, I dunno if I’d have made it.” He gaze became unfocused as he recalled her mustering up tea and biscuits, like a genie with a bottle, that first day for John Bristo. “I was operating on a shoestring, sleepin’ on a foldout in m’office after I’d broke up with my fiancé. It was the payment for that first case that made it so I could afford to keep Robin on the payroll.”

Strike took a large bite of his sandwich and chewed as he thought. He took the time to eat a few crisps and wash them down with cold beer before he continued. “After that we got some publicity and more work came our way. Robin had studied psychology at the uni and I’m former SIB, but she did a surveillance course and some more training. We’ve solved a few really major cases, supplementing the income with lots of surveillance of spouses who think their partner is doing something nefarious. Along the way, we’ve some contract employees that’ve worked out great. We got a proper office manager who tries to boss us all in line. And Robin and I share the office with a partner desk. It all works out. She’s good with some types we need to question, bloody brilliant at disguises and accents.” For a moment Strike drifted off at the thought of Robin dressed as Becca. He took another two bites of his sandwich as he considered how she looked, sounded, and was able to fire answers back to him in character. “And now we’re partners,” he stopped himself before he added _and best mates._

“That all sounds very nice, so not to put a damper on it, but do you ever have troubles getting along? Disagreements? And how do you handle those?”

Strike gave a rueful grin and looked down at his sandwich. “I sacked her once, so I guess you’d say that’s about as bad as it’s got.” He shook his head, “Wasn’t but a few hours before I knew I was wrong, but I had to go with it for a bit longer than that. Thought I was keeping her safe that way.” He took a long pull from his beer, realized it was now empty and rose to fetch another. With a heavy sigh, he continued, “She was getting married. I always think of him as ‘that twat,’ he tried to keep me from contacting her. She didn’t know he’d erased my calls, my messages on her phone. I went to her wedding to ask her to come back.” Continuing to shake his head, “I didn’t think she’d go through with it, but she married him. She came back to work at the agency, too, even though he didn’t like it.” More quietly, “It was a rough year for her.” 

Twisting the top off his second beer, “And now she’s been divorced from him for two years,” he finished, suddenly wondering why in the world he was telling this woman all these details. Determined to be more circumspect, he said, “So. You wonder about disagreements? We talk things out and it works quite well.” 

Jo nodded. It crossed Strike’s mind that she gave nothing away about her thoughts. 

“I’ll ask you the same question I asked your partner. What do you see in your future? What do you want life to be like in 10 years?”

Strike knew the answer to this one. He was sure he and Robin would give the same answer. “We’d like the agency to be running smoothly, bit better bank balance so we can be sure to keep the contractors in work. Probably have a different office, since our lease may not be renewed,” and he stopped smugly. 

“But what of your personal life?”

_Fuck’s sake,_ thought Strike. _Don’t think about what Robin said._ “I don’t know. I’ve got old mates, mates I see frequently,” stopping before he added _and a best mate._

“You know, I do my research, just like any good investigator, before I conduct an interview. My research shows you’ve been paired with some beautiful women over the years, but there’s been no mention of any dalliances more recently. I’ll be blunt. Is there any romantic involvement with your partner?”

Strike wrestled with the question. He knew he was being paid well and had agreed to answer all questions, but this seemed to him to cross the line and he finally said so. 

Jo responded, “Let me rephrase then. Do you think it’s possible for work partners to become romantically involved? For the purposes of my book?”

Strike leaned back in his seat, stretching his legs out to become more comfortable. He shuffled some crisps around on his almost empty plate, never meeting the woman’s eyes directly. “Yeah, probably, if it was the right people.”

When he didn’t continue for a few moments, she finally asked, “What do you mean, the right people?”

“Well, I don’t know if a beautiful, brilliant woman would have a romantic interest in an old fat fucker with half a leg,” he blurted sardonically. Pulling a deep breath in through his nose and blowing it out quickly, “The older I get the more I think I’m not the marrying type. I turn every relationship to shit. I can’t take that chance with Robin. She means too much to me.”

“You mean she’s too important to the agency?”

Rubbing the condensation on his beer bottle, he considered, then, “No, to me. I can’t take a chance on losing her again.” 


	4. A Very Confusing Interview

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jo interviews Robin and Cormoran together, getting some rather confusing answers.

Chapter 4

Strike had texted Robin when he returned to his flat. He was grateful she was on surveillance into the evening and he wouldn’t be seeing her. Just like she was the evening before, he felt curiously unwilling to discuss his interview at this point. 

Unfortunately, he thought, tomorrow was the interview they’d scheduled together with Jo. He felt morose at the prospect. He couldn’t believe he’d allowed himself to be in this position. If he didn’t have such an early start in the morning, he’d head on over to The Tottenham and knock back several beers all by himself. 

On the other side of town, Robin worried her lower lip as her tension rose over the coming interview with Jo. While she’d originally thought this would be great fun to be consulted by the writer, now she was dreading the questions. She certainly hoped she’d be able to fall asleep once she got home after Barkley took over the surveillance. She’d need to be in top form so that she didn’t put her foot squarely in her mouth in the morning. 

~~

Strike and Robin had been asked to bring an overnight bag with a change of clothing to their final interview. They had discussed how curious this was when they’d first received the packet with instructions. Although the interview was clearly marked for two hours, there was two hours travel time each way and it had been suggested they might want to clear their calendars so that they could stay overnight if they chose. The whole thing was mysterious, but they’d originally thought it sounded fun. 

The morning dawned bright and they were resolutely ready when the driver stopped first at Denmark Street to pick up Strike, then at Robin’s flat, before dropping them both at a private airfield just at the edge of town. There a helicopter was waiting to take them to their final destination, which remained a mystery until Robin recognized it as they drew near to Jo’s home just north of Edenborough, Scotland. Her eyes grew large as the realization hit her and Strike, of course, refused to be impressed. Upon their landing, Jo was at hand to welcome them.

“I owe you both an apology for taking you so far afield. I’m grateful for your cooperation. It is so difficult to find a way to have adequate privacy from media I was forced to bring you both here. I will, of course, increase your reimbursement accordingly, but I hope you will enjoy your time here. There’s been a light repast prepared for you in the dining hall. Afterwards, we’ll be in the library for our final interview. You can be taken back to London afterwards, or if you are agreeable, you’re welcome to stay for dinner. I’ll confess, my family is so hoping to meet you both as they are fans of yours. I’m sure you’ll enjoy your quarters immensely if you decide to stay the night and return to London tomorrow, but it is totally your choice.”

The two detectives followed their hostess into the beautiful mansion, where Strike was once again swayed into cooperation by the generous and delicious foods on offer. Afterwards, they retired to the library.

~~

“I so appreciate you both cooperating with my interview questions. I know I promised that it wouldn’t be painful, but I’m afraid it must have been nearly so at times.” At this Robin wondered about Strike’s interview, feeling faintly protective of him. But Jo distracted her by continuing, “Here is the conundrum for which I seek your assistance. My intention is to present a pair of detectives who will be the subjects of a series of books. Each book will see them solving a mystery and as they do so, it is my intention to reveal more of their personal lives and history. Through these books, my readers will watch these two grow as human beings and hopefully grow to love them. Where I need your help is figuring out a way that these two can become a couple, a romantic couple.”

Robin and Strike carefully avoided looking at each other. Finally, Strike replied, “Surely you jest.” 

“I’m afraid not. I make every effort to write stories that are based on real-life. You two are the closest thing I can find on which to base the essence of my hero and heroine.” 

Strike remained silent and Robin wondered frantically if he was fuming. Ever the one to smooth things over, Robin finally asked, “Do you have specific questions to guide us?”

“Actually, yes.” 

“Go on then,” Strike acquiesced. 

“I’d like you each to name five barriers to a romantic relationship between the two of you.” 

Robin appeared stunned speechless, so Strike rattled off, “Physical appearance, age, financial status, risk of failure, and I can’t think of a fifth one.”

Robin stared at Strike as though he had just sprouted three heads, then began shaking her head. As though in a trance, she responded, “Physical appearance, affections formerly pledged, and risk of failure.” Almost as an afterthought she added, “I can only come up with three.” 

Jo smiled in satisfaction, “Ah, now we’re getting somewhere!” Both Strike and Robin gave her a look like they agreed she was a complete nutter. “Physical appearance – please elaborate. Strike goes first.”

He kept his eyes trained on Jo and wouldn’t dare look at Robin. “I’m a fat fucker with half one leg gone.” 

Jo again, “Robin.”

“What?” she was now staring at Strike. “You’ve been swimming twice a week and working out at the gym. You’ve cut back on crisps and beer. You’re big. You’re strong. But you’re NOT fat and you turn heads when you enter a room. You’ve got some proper big man energy about you!”

Jo was now laughing openly, “No! I meant why did _you_ say physical appearance was a barrier, Robin!” 

“Oh,” Robin felt confused suddenly. “I couldn’t compete with super models, women who dress fashionably, and the woman Strike told me is the most beautiful he’s ever known,” eyes downcast, she spoke quietly.

“Robin,” Strike began, but Jo interrupted.

“Strike, you said _age_ , please elaborate.”

“I’m 10 years older than Robin. There may come a time that ten years would make a difference, cause a crevasse in a relationship.”

“Strike!” Robin began, but again Jo interrupted.

“Robin, you listed _affections formerly pledged_ , please explain what that barrier is about.”

“It’s obviously a barrier if one of the people has already pledged their love to another.”

Strike exploded, “You think you can’t love again after being married to that twat?”

“No! You said you’ll always love Charlotte!”

Jo took back control of the interview by saying, “Strike, you listed financial status. Care to explain?”

“I’ll never be a rich man. I don’t wanna be. I’m not much of a catch financially, living in a two-room flat over the office. I’m not my father.”

“What’s money got to do with it, anyway?” Robin plaintively asked nobody in particular and was answered by Jo shooting back another question.

“Risk of failure, who wants to go first?”

Strike and Robin locked eyes. Strike began to speak first, “I can’t risk it. I fuck every relationship up.”

Robin asked, “You can’t risk the business?”

“No, I can’t risk losing the best thing that ever came into my life. You. I don’t want to think about how … how could I go on if I didn’t have you… “

Robin, speaking as though to herself, “I’ve come to realize that I could do detective work other places, but I only want to do it with you. I said fear of failure because it devastated me when you sacked me and I never want to go through losing you again.” 

Robin and Strike now stood in the middle of the room staring at each other. Both of them felt totally wrung out, but their minds were working like mainframe computers, trying to sort out what it all meant. They nodded almost robotically when Jo said, “Thank you both very much. There’s someone out front waiting to take you to your lodging for tonight. There’s time to take a break there for a couple hours. I’ll check in with you later to see if you’re up for having dinner with my family. 


	5. An evening with the author

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robin and Cormoran spend an evening with the illustrious mystery writer and her family.

Chapter 5

Robin and Strike were transported in an open top Jeep through a narrow winding road. Within ten minutes they reached their destination. Robin gasped when she recognized Hagrid’s Hut and Strike looked at her quizzically. “Never mind,” she said, “We’re in for a treat.” She was mildly surprised that he was relatively unaware of the world of Harry Potter.

They entered the oddly shaped wooden structure, finding the inside glowingly lit with gas lights in sconces and a cheerful wood fire. Strike felt immediately comfortable in the unpretentious furnishings. He noted it was one large room with a doorway through which he could see was a small bathroom. There appeared to be a kitchenette/dining area, so he walked across to pull open the door of the refrigerator. Inside was a variety of fruits and cheeses, along with a good supply of beer. Next to it, he opened the cupboards, finding snack crackers, biscuits, nuts, and crisps. He turned full circle, taking in the big four-poster bed with the snow-white duvet and a plethora of plump pillows at the head. Beside it sat a huge rocking chair and a large dark-leather couch nearby. 

“I don’t know about you, but I’m completely knackered. Could do with a short nap before we move to the next thing.” With that, he took himself off to the overstuffed couch, discovered a mechanism to make the end seat into a recliner, and quickly began snoring. 

Robin shrugged, muttered to herself, and pulled a colorful quilted throw across her as she crawled onto the big bed, then promptly fell asleep also. 

Unbeknownst to each other, they both had spent the last couple of days with brains whirring, trying to sort out what was happening to them as a result of these interviews. Where once barriers stood out of necessity, the very examination of these arbitrary limits seemed to render them moot.

The ring of an old-fashioned phone woke the detective duo a couple hours later. Strike was nearest, so he answered, his voice husky from sleep. After listening attentively for long enough that Robin became curious, he simply said, “Right,” and replaced the receiver. Looking to Robin, “I took the liberty of agreeing for both of us to meet Jo’s family this evening for dinner. We’re to arrive at the big house at 7:30 sharp.”

“Definitely,” Robin said with a slight smile. 

While Strike was outside, smoking one of the few fags he’d had on this trip, Robin wandered around the inside of the abode, taking note of details. She stopped short when she spied a shallow stone basin adorned with symbols around the edge. Strike returned to the house causing her to invite him, “Come see. I think I’ve found a pensive.” She hummed delightedly as she and Cormoran moved closer. She peered into the constantly moving silver clouds above the basin, both surprised and entranced at what she saw.

She jolted when she saw a small boy with tears and snot running down his face, a boy in too-short trousers watching adults argue. She noted the same boy, again crying, while on a ferry boat and apparently his mum was trying to placate him with candies and biscuits. The small child morphed into an older teen, smoking a fag while studying at a table. Then the handsome boy comforting a young blonde haired girl and rocking a tiny baby in his arms. With the blink of an eye he was a little older, his eyes haunted as he stood with hand on a guitar-shaped monument in a cemetery. Next, he wore a uniform with a red cap, looking muscular and fit, but within seconds he was in a boxing ring with blood running from his nose and mouth. The silver clouds swirled as he next grinned at a beautiful pale, dark haired beauty, then he was lying on the ground with half his leg blown off and Robin squinched her eyes shut as a young boy pointed a gun at his head. Peeking again, she saw an ashtray flying through the air to hit him in the face. She was beginning to feel the first signs of a panic attack when she watched herself falling backwards down a steep flight of stairs, then Strike reaching out in apparent slow motion to grab her left breast and save her. The scenes flipped more rapidly now, Strike grinning at her as she asked to stay on permanently, Strike looking very pleased with his Cornish gift basket, the forlorn look he had at her wedding, and the comfort of his arms around a bride on the stairs. She startled to watch Strike with his head in his hands after calling Masham, then drinking copious amounts before a burlesque dancer joined him in bed. She heard the kind timbre of his voice as he spoke to Orlando, his directness as he said he wouldn’t ask her to sacrifice her marriage, and then watched in horror as she experienced his pain when he fell while tailing Jimmy in a protest march. The images slowed again as she saw one expression after another on her beloved partners face and she knew in her heart that those looks had been for her – Strike looking at her in Vashti and again at the ball when she patched him up and he said ‘nice dress,’ when he agreed to make Robin’s position permanent, when he kissed the back of her hand, the look of jubilation as they began their trip to Skegness, his contrition after he’d accidently elbowed her in the face, the adoration he’d had in his gaze after buying Narciso for her birthday…

Robin was almost startled when she felt Strike take her hand and ask, “A’right?”

“Yeah,” she sounded vague to her own ears, her gaze returned to the stone basin. 

Strike gave her a considering gaze, then turned his attention, as any detective would, to the unusual item. He’d never seen anything like it and was relatively certain it hadn’t been sitting there earlier. Now his eyes crinkled as he looked upon Robin as a young girl stamping her foot at a shaggy pony, then climbing on. He watched her studiously readying for tests at uni, until he was almost brought to his knees as he watched helplessly – Robin pretending to be dead in the stairwell in the dark of night with a masked man. His heart ached as he saw her listlessly in her bedroom at Masham, then he regained hope as he saw the determination on her face during self-defense courses and the satisfaction she radiated as she operated like a race car driver behind the wheel of an old Land Rover. His heart lurched once again as he watched ‘that twat’ on bended knee at a fountain to give her an engagement ring, followed quickly by the look on her face as Strike himself saved her life on the Denmark Street office stairway. He was frozen in place now as he watched the most wonderful person in his life give him a delighted “I do,” in a church in Masham, then appear so somber during the celebration afterwards until he saw her flee from the first dance and run after him down the steps. He gazed at the look of longing and home on her face as they hugged on the stairs. Within moments she was on a beach, but tears were on her face, then again with the tears streaming as she hung up the phone in some unknown pub. He realized the toll taken on her over the next months as she began to lose that luster he loved, then fondly remembered the lightness he felt as she smilingly told him she knew he’d bring beer to Nick and Ilsa’s. There were a flurry of looks and memories in his vision now. Robin saying “this is what I love,” “too much onion,” and “Can we make it permanent?” His heart pounded anew as he watched her driving a taxi with a crazed woman trying to strangle her, pulling a rape alarm out of her pocket and being slashed with a knife, and finally, controlling her panic and keeping Rafe talking until Strike could rescue her. He saw and heard her rendition of the Bobbi character. He marveled at her composure as she interviewed a man who called her a bitch, then Strike laughed in pure joy as he watched her reach across the table to nab one of the man’s chips and pop it into her mouth after he had stormed from the pub. 

Suddenly, Strike shook himself as though from a trance and realized he had his arm around Robin. While they freshened themselves for dinner, again their minds were working, meticulously examining the treasures they’d realized in the last few days. 

~~

Robin and Cormoran both felt a weight had been lifted from their shoulders as they entered the large mansion and were met by Jo, with a beaming smile. “I’m so glad you could join us! It’s pizza and bowling night here, with your favorite beverages, of course. Kids’ idea and I think you’ll enjoy yourselves.” They followed their hostess and were soon introduced to Jo’s husband, a graying bespectacled man, as well as her three children, two girls and one boy. Although they ranged in age from around 10 to 20 years, the adults in the room considered them all children.

Strike noticed that the lot of them seemed to feel quite at ease in his and Robin’s presence, but didn’t give it much thought as he returned the feeling within moments of meeting them. The young people were enthusiastic and quite bright. The whole family was entertaining in their wittiness. Robin beamed at them frequently, obviously enjoying herself. They sat at a large pub-style table for the pizza and beer. Cormoran was quite starved and immensely enjoyed the excellent pizza. Robin kept up with the witty repartee of the young folks and it felt almost like Cormoran was enjoying being with these young people, too. It was towards the end of the meal that the boy, Davie, was being teased by his sisters and Robin leapt to his defense. He admitted a knack for something called ‘tessomancy’ and agreed to give Robin a demonstration. The proper utensils were garnered, along with tea leaves, and the reading commenced. The young lad began with Robin, obviously taking his time and wanting to get it right. He finally pronounced, “That thing you’ve been worrying about? It’ll happen tonight at midnight.” 

Robin’s mouth formed a perfect ‘O’ as she blushed slightly, “Well thank you for the heads-up.” She knew what had been on her mind and she was certain that nothing about it could be so simple as to happen within the next few hours, unless she braved thin ice. 

Even though Cormoran tried to resist, he, too, soon had his tea leaves readied. “This one is a little more difficult,” the boy took his time. After much deliberation, he gave Cormoran a very direct look, then grinned at him, “That thing _you’ve_ been worrying about will be solved brilliantly.” Cormoran’s eyebrows raised, he hesitated, then said, “Thanks for the reassurance,” all the while thinking, _It’ll have to be Robin who solves it, if the solution is brilliant._

Within moments, the entire group had gathered in a nearby five-lane bowling alley which was well appointed with all the accoutrements of one of the best. Colorful strobe lights flashed in time to the upbeat music and there were plush seating areas for each team. Since there was an uneven number of people, Strike was given a good excuse to sit the first game out as they divided into two teams. He wasn’t sure how well he’d do with his prosthetic leg and anyway he enjoyed unobtrusively watching Robin have such a good time with the Murray family. He noted there was something about bowling that seemed to put them all in a jovial mood and again, he noticed this family seemed to all feel like they’d known Robin and Cormoran for ages. It was almost uncanny the amount of information they seemed to know about the detective pair and Cormoran struggled a little to think they had followed the news of their agency so closely. They must’ve scrolled through a number of Google search pages to find some of the information they’d mentioned offhand. Giving a mental shrug, he gave himself up to the fun of the evening. 

There was a break after the first game and a matronly housekeeper arrived with trays of beverages and crisps. It was decided they’d play the best two out of three for a championship and they cajoled Cormoran into agreeing to play in the final round. Robin was decidedly popular with the family, so Cormoran saw she positively glowed with enjoyment. She displayed a good-natured competitive spirit throughout the evening, seeming to relax and forget any worries or cares. 

It was at the beginning of the championship round, which Jo had decided to sit out, that the entire group began to get an inkling of Cormoran’s bowling prowess. Although he was a little awkward during his warm-up, his first three times up bowled strikes. By the fourth frame, the kids began to clap their hands and call, “Strike, strike, strike!” By his seventh time up, Robin and the Murray parents joined in the chant. By the time he bowled the first of his 10th frame they were all jumping up and down along with their chant. At his eleventh strike, the onlookers were all holding hands and no longer chanting. Robin felt like she couldn’t breathe, her excitement was so high, then a hush fell over them as Strike’s last 10-pins were set. He gave the impression of having intense focus of his attention and Robin was sure someone could hear her heart pound as she held her breath. He picked up his 14-pound ball, gave it his signature back-spin, the sound of the ball against wood was heard, and they all watched as it slowly curved its way down the lane. 

Their cries erupted as Cormoran bowled a perfect game. All were jumping up and down and high-fiving him, while Strike just stood there grinning from ear to ear. 

Then it happened. Suddenly Robin pictured two best friends who had successfully taken their relationship to a whole new level. As Hermione Granger once did with Ron Weasley, Robin rushed at Cormoran, placed her arms around his neck, and kissed him squarely on the mouth in her excitement. Nobody seemed surprised as he lifted her off the ground, kissing her enthusiastically in return, while thinking _Brilliant!_ before they both pulled apart just a little. Cormoran’s arm came up to pull her close to his side. Robin’s arm came around Strike’s waist as they both turned to see the entire Murray family beaming at them as though they’d orchestrated the whole thing. They all laughed as a nearby clock sounded midnight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been such fun to write!
> 
> I've taken many liberties with mentioning JKR and her family and in every instance this is totally fiction so much has been manufactured. 
> 
> I'm pretty new at writing and doing fan fiction, so I've no idea how it works that I've mentioned some Harry Potter things in this chapter. If anyone with more experience has some pointers, they'd be much appreciated.
> 
> So the ending has been pretty fluffy and I'm sure not at all what JKR/RG will be writing, hopefully in the next book.


End file.
